


Baby Come Home

by TheAngelThatCriedDean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Artist!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel High School AU, End, Fluff, Happy Ending, High School AU, I promise it will end happy., Keyword, M/M, Slow Build, Writer!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelThatCriedDean/pseuds/TheAngelThatCriedDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a senior at (insert cool school name here). He was used to lulling through the day, getting into trouble and sticking himself into detention. Until one day he finds a notebook, a diary belonging to the one and only Castiel Novak. And then suddenly, Dean's world is flipped upside down all because of Castiel Novak's dumbass face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step 1: Finds the Notebook

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally on WattPad but then I decided I was an adult and moved over here. So hi. I wrote this. Whatever.

 “Ugh…” Dean sighed. He sat in an empty classroom with no one other than an elderly man. The whiteboard in front of him had the word ‘detention’ scrawled on messily in all caps. The room was quiet other than the sound of rustling papers and the occasional teacher walking past. Dean looked around the room. The desks were all cleared except for a notebook that laid upside down on a desk in the back of the room.

What the…, Dean thought. He looked up to the front of the room.

“Uh, Mr. Miller?” He asked.

“What is it, Winchester?” he responded without looking up from the book he was reading.

“I, uh, left my notebook back there and it has my math homework in it. Mind if I grab it?” Dean lied.

Mr. Miller sighed, irritated, “Get it.”

Dean stood up and walked to the back of the room. He picked up the notebook and read the cover.

 

**Property of Castiel Novak**

**DO NOT TOUCH**

**PLEASE RETURN TO CASTIEL NOVAK IF FOUND**

**This is what I look like in case you don't know.**

 

Directly underneath the message was a picture of a teenage boy with jet black hair and deep blue eyes.

_What is this, a diary? What kind of nerd carries a diary to school?_ , Dean thought.

“Winchester! Back to your seat, you still have 2 hours left. You shouldn’t have filled Rhonda Hurley’s gym clothes with worms if you weren’t going to do the time.” Mr. Miller said.

“Yeah, yeah. Calm down.” Dean walked back to his desk and slumped into his seat.

Looking over to Miller, making sure he didn’t notice, he opened the notebook, laying it flat out on the desk. The inside looked like it was old and used with grey pages and smeared pencil marks.

_Jesus Christ, how old is this…_ , Dean thought, inspecting the page.

The first entry was like an honest introduction.

 

**My name is Castiel Novak. I am a freshman at (insert cool school name here). The date is September 6th, 2012.**

 

_2012? That was two years ago. So he’s still a junior…_

**I just recently moved here after my father left my brothers and I. And I never met my mother.**

 

_Holy shit, that’s sad._

 

**My brother Gabriel is taking care of me right now. Lucifer already ran away.**

 

_Lucifer? Really? Okay, this has to be a joke._

**I’m not really looking forward to starting school. I’m not athletic or smart or funny and I have no friends.**

_Wow, loser._

**I really don’t want to. The worst possible thing right now is just sitting in this bus waiting to pull up in front of this goddamn school.**

_Exaggerated, geez. I’m bored._

Dean skipped through a couple pages until he found another interesting paragraph.

 

**Today is September 11th, 2012. I think I’m actually used to my classes now. I made a couple of friends. Anna and Balthazar. Balthazar is French and his name is kinda weird but he’s really cool.**

_I know that guy, his accent is sorta cool._

**I met someone today. He’s really...wow. He has messy brown hair and green eyes. I think he has a younger brother. His name is-**

“WINCHESTER.” The teacher yelled, walking towards Dean’s desk, “Math homework, my ass. Give that over.”

Dean reluctantly handed over the notebook, Great, he thought, I was just about to find out his fricking name.

Mr. Miller pulled his reading glasses down his nose, “Cas-ti-el No-vak.” he read, “This isn’t even your book, Winchester. What are you doing with it?”

“It’s, uh, my friend Castiel’s. He left it here and I figured I’d give it back to him.”

“Castiel is in my elective class. I will return it to him tomorrow,” Mr. Miller walked back to his desk, “Hour and a half left, Winchester.”

Dean slumped back in his chair, staring at the clock.

Dammit, I was so close to finding out who that was about. Hmm, brown hair, green eyes. Do I know anyone like that?

Dean dozed off only to be awoken by his teacher yelling at him, something about disrespecting him and his authority. He gathered his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the classroom. The halls of the classroom were empty, almost deserted.

Well, it is almost 6:00.

As he was walking down the halls, a boy only a bit shorter than Dean himself walked past, holding a book in front of his face. His hair and eyes matched the photo on the notebook.

Wait, this is Castiel, isn’t it…

“Uh, you’re Castiel, right?” Dean stopped to asked.

“Huh?” Castiel asked, surprised. He blushed, “Oh, um, yeah.”

“Well, you, uh, left your notebook thing in your elective classroom. Figured you might want to know.”

“Shit, really? Uh, thanks for letting me know.” Castiel said holding his book close to his stomach.

“I’ll, uh, see you later.” Dean said.

“Yah, later.” Castiel said.

The air was awkward as the two stood in an empty hallway, no one moving or speaking, before Castiel nodded his head and walked towards the classroom Dean was previously in.

Dean shook off the feeling and walked outside to grab his bike. Taking it off the rack, he began his commute home. He reached his house and parked his bike in front. He found his keys and opened the front door. His younger brother, Sam, sat on a couch in front of the TV, next to his girlfriend, Jessica Moore. Sam had shaggy brown hair with bangs covering his eyes and bluish-green eyes that seemed to change colors. Jessica had long, blonde, curly hair, full pink lips, and beautiful blue eyes.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean said, hanging his coat up, “Jess.”

“Hey, Dean.” Sam said without looking away from the TV.

“Hi!” Jess smiled.

“Why were you late today?” Sam asked.

“Rhonda Hurley. I put worms in her gym clothes. Three hour detention.” Dean said, walking to the kitchen.

“Isn’t she the girl that made you put-”

“Upupupupup. That’s not important.” Dean interrupted, “We don’t need to relive that.”

Sam snickered, “Whatever.”

“Anyways, how’s 8th grade treating you?” Dean asked, opening the fridge.

“It’s boring. I’m not gonna lie. But the teachers are nice and Jess is in most of my classes, so I’m good.” Sam smiled. Jess blushed and grinned in return.

“Blech.” Dean complained, “You guys are gross.” he pulled a cheeseburger that was wrapped in foil out of the fridge. He popped it into the microwave and walked back towards Sam and Jess.

“You’re just jealous that you’re single. Especially after all that with Lisa.” Sam said, snarkily.

“But for Christ’s sake, she could at least act like she remembers me.” Dean said, “Oh, before I forget, I found something cool in detention today.”

Sam turned the TV’s volume down, “What was it?” he and Jess turned towards Dean.

“Some guy left his diary at school.” Dean said.

“Please don’t tell me you read it.” Jess said.

“Bingo.” Dean laughed, “He’s a junior and his name is Castiel Novak. He has a pretty messed up backstory. No parents, only an older brother. I think he only has, like, two friends.”

“Jeez, that’s brutal.” Sam said, putting his arm around Jess.

“The most frustrating thing is that he was talking about some guy he met but Miller took the book away before I could read his name. He said he has brown hair and green eyes but I can’t think of anyone.” Dean said.

Sam looked at Jess with a confused expression, “Really? No one at all?”

“No clue…” Dean said.

“Y’know, I can’t say that I can picture anyone who fits the bill.” Sam said, sarcastically, but Dean couldn't catch it.

“I need to get that book back somehow.” Dean said, walking back towards the kitchen.

“You probably shouldn’t be reading some random guy’s personal diary.” Jess pointed out.

“Maybe he shouldn’t leave it in class.” Dean argued.

“Just promise me you won’t go snooping.” Sam said.

“Of course.” Dean was used to lying. He grabbed his burger out of the microwave and lay down on the couch adjacent from Sam and Jess, thinking of a way to get the notebook back.

 


	2. Step 2: Achieve the Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needs to get that notebook back, and what happens when you need something? You hatch a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one day and I've already had a good response. Thank.

Dean packed up his backpack and slung it lazily over his shoulder.

“C’mon Sammy, school’s starting. Let’s go.” Dean said, calling up the stairs.

“I thought Dad was gonna take me to school today.” Sam replied.

“Dad’s busy with some business thing, he got held up. Grab your bike, big bro’s gonna ride with you.” Dean smiled.

“You are so lame.” Sam joked, walking down the stars.

The two pulled the bikes out of their garage and began the trip towards Sam’s middle school. By the time they got there, Dean was already late so he decided to take his time. By the time he had reached his school, his first period was already finished. He checked into the attendance office and began making his way to his second period. He walked through the noisy hallways until he noticed Castiel, walking alone to his next class. He saw his opportunity and he grabbed it.

“Hey, hold up!” Dean called, jogging towards him.

Castiel looked around, expecting Dean to be calling one of his friends, only to notice him running towards him.

“You’re Castiel, right?” Dean asked.

“Um, yeah. Thanks for helping me find my book yesterday, by the way. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost it.” Castiel said, awkwardly. He hugged his book closer to his body, as if it would cover him up.

“Look, I was wondering, do you want to sit together at lunch today? My friends are all absent and I thought that you were pretty cool.” Dean smiled.

I gotta sell it. I don’t even know if Benny’s here today and I doubt that the football team is really gonna care if I don’t sit with them for one day.

“I, uh.” Castiel blushed, “Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. Meet you at room 54?” Dean asked. Room 54 was the abandoned art room that was always kept locked up.

“Yah, I’ll..see you there.” Castiel agreed. He brought his notebook close to his face and he walked briskly to his next class.

_Phase one, complete._

Dean lulled through his next classes. Benny would constantly ask him what was wrong only for Dean to swat the question away.

_What, now I can’t be bored? Jeez, Benny, calm down._

Lunch period finally crawled by and Dean jumped out of his seat, anxious to get his hands on the notebook, eager to find out the name of the mystery man that Castiel wrote about.

God, Castiel is such a long name. Cas. Cas fits him and it rolls off the tongue. Perfect.

Dean rested against a door with the number 54 inscribed onto a plaque that was glued to it. He eagerly checked his watch, waiting for Cas to walk by.

Finally he heard footsteps growing louder by his side. Castiel ran up, panting, “Sorry, I...couldn’t find...the room.”

“It’s fine, dude. Do you know what this room is?” Dean said, knocking on the door behind him. When Cas shook his head, Dean explained, “Its an art room from back when we had that elective. Its basically bolted shut.”

“Then, why are we here?” Cas asked, confused.

“We are going to break in.” Dean smirked.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Cas pointed out, worriedly.

“I might, but that’s usual. If someone walks by, just hide, I’ll take the blame.” Dean said.

“How do we get in?”

“Nothing can stop you when you got a lock pick.” Dean smiled as he pulled a pick out of his pocket, “Take watch, would you?”

Castiel stood in front of the door, his back to Dean. Dean began jimmying the lock, working the pick diligently.

“C’mon Cas, let’s go.” Dean smiled. He opened the door, let Castiel in, and closed the door. However, he left it open just a crack, setting up his plan. He went to where Castiel was standing and pointed to the other side of the room, “You can put your stuff over there if you want.”

Castiel began laying his things down, one at a time.

First his backpack.

Then his jacket.

_C’mon, put it down._

Then his keys.

_House keys? I don’t know. Last one, come on…_

Finally, he put down the notebook.

_YES YES YES YES YES YES stay cool, stay cool._

_Phase 2, complete._

Dean went over while Castiel sat down in an empty seat near the desk. He put down his bag and shoved the diary over by an inch, towards his things.

He took his seat, which faced Castiel, while his back was angled towards the desk.

“I, uh, I’m gonna admit, I have no idea why you would invite me to have lunch with you. In an abandoned classroom, nonetheless.” Castiel said, fidgeting in his seat.

“Why, you nervous?" Dean asked. He half-smiled, "Don't worry, I just wanted to hang out, you seemed kinda lonely."

"I'm not exactly lonely, I just, prefer having a smaller friend group."

"So that's what they're calling it," Dean chuckled, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Come on, dig in. Or are you just gonna look at your food this whole period?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," Castiel said, as if he was just remembering that he had a lunch. His mouth was dry and his heart was racing. He grabbed a water bottle by his feet and took a swig of it.

Dean laughed as he saw drops fall down Castiel's shirt, and Castiel put down the bottle, "Careful there, Novak."

Castiel swallowed harshly, "S-sorry, I'm just kinda nervous."

"Don't be, I just want to hang out." Dean said, reassuringly.

"I get that you think I'm lonely, but there are a lot of lonely kids at this school. Why me?' Castiel asked.

"I don't know," Dean panicked, "You just...caught my attention. You're different." he improvised.

“Sure.” Castiel said, opening his bag.

Dean frantically changed the subject, “What do you like to do in your free time, Cas?”

“My free time?” Castiel asked, grabbing a plastic container with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from his bag, “Well, I enjoy writing. I like to let myself go in the words.”

“Really? That’s cool, I’m an artist myself. I used to be in this exact room everyday.” Dean hatched an idea, “Hold on, I want to show you something.” Dean stood up and walked to a dusty cabinet opposite him. He unhooked the latch on the doors and rummaged through the shelves. He finally found what he was looking for an excitedly pulled it out. It was three pieces of rolled up canvas, all tied together with rubber bands, the ends ripped an inch in. He brought back to Castiel after brushed off the dust and unrolling them. He showed them off one at a time, “I made these back in my sophomore year. Me and the art teacher? We were like this.” Dean intertwined his index and middle finger.

“You were part of this class?” Castiel asked, looking around.

“Yeah, it was the best class anyone ever taught.” Dean sighed. “Well, when I first joined we were told to draw portraits of ourselves. So I made this.” Dean showed off the first piece of canvas, holding it out to stop it from curling back up.

Castiel looked at it while taking a bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He furrowed his brow, “I don’t understand. You drew...black smoke.”

“Well, I drew the part you don’t see. I drew the soul.” Dean laughed, “I was going through a really weird phase back then.”

“No, I like it. That’s a good idea.” Castiel said.

“Anyways, the next thing we were told to draw was our family. So I drew this.” Dean held up the next canvas.

Castiel studied the painting in front him, “So, am I correct to assume that that is your younger brother?”

Dean nodded, “His name is Sam.”

“This one seemed like it had less of a hidden meaning,” Castiel said, confused.

“That’s what a normal person would say, I don’t blame you.” Dean tilted the painting, putting it under the light. The light bounced off the painting, showing off the glossy paint. It was the outline of a woman with long hair, standing behind the two brothers, her hands on their shoulders, her smile wide.

“Am I correct to assume that’s your mother?” Castiel asked, cautiously.

“Yeah, that’s her. She passed away when Sam was 6 months old.” Dean said, his voice slightly softer than before.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” Castiel said, with utmost sincerity.

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Dean pulled out the last painting and unrolled it, more carefully than the others. “This is the last thing I made in this classroom.” The drawing was smaller than the others, but it was colored in much more vibrant.

Castiel finished his sandwich and put the plastic container back inside his lunch bag. Castiel scrunched his eyes together, “This is a painting of a woman. A young one, its quite remarkably made. What’s the meaning?”

“This is the woman that taught this class. She promised to save every picture I drew or painted, no matter what happened. The next day, she got in a car crash, didn’t make it. The paintings stayed in this room since then. Had to sneak ‘em in but it was worth. Damn, y’know, she was amazing.” Dean said, a smile barely reaching his lips.

God, how many dead people does Dean know? That’s so depressing, Castiel thought.

“I’m really sorry, Dean. Honestly. That’s terrible.” Castiel said.

“Nah, nah. Don’t do that, she was awesome but she never wanted anyone to mourn her death. She’s more of ‘celebrate my life’ kind of girl.” Dean said. He shook his head, “Whatever, I just wanted to show you those. Thought you might like ‘em.”

“They really were amazing, I could never do anything like that, you really have a gift.” Castiel said while Dean rolled the canvas back up and wrapped the rubber bands back around it.

“Well, you have writing, right? That’s your gift, be proud of it.” Dean smiled, putting the canvas back into the cabinet and closed it up again.

“I wouldn’t call it a gift. I mean, its pretty average.” Castiel blushed again, running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t do that to yourself, it’s probably amazing.” Dean cracked a smile. He heard the the door to the room open just a crack and looked at Castiel in the eyes, “Get under the table. Now, go.”

Castiel snuck under the table behind him, looking up at Dean, “I don’t get it.” he whispered.

“Winchester!” A science teacher by the name of Mr. Walker walked in, “Of course its you I find in here!”

Dean ran in front of his things before Mr. Walker looked at him and pushed Castiel’s things off the table, excluding the notebook, “Looks like you got me.”

“Giving up that easy? That’s new. You get the consolation prize of 2 hours of detention. In my room. After school.” Mr. Walker said.

“I was expecting that much.” Dean said, looking down.

Mr. Walker shook his head, “You gotta give up on her, kid. She’s dead. You ain’t gonna change that. Now get out of here.”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded quietly, the entire time with an understanding grimace. He gathered his things, grabbing the notebook with his jacket.

“The clock is ticking, Winchester.” Mr. Walker said, tapping his wrist.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Dean sighed, selling the act.

_Phase 3, complete._

_All systems are go._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this how you write saddish back story things? I don't know.


	3. Step 3: Wait...what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally has the notebook, quite a success, he thinks. It's not until he actually reads it that he notices that something's...off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of weird? I don't know, people liked it.

Dean sat in the classroom at 3:30, Mr. Walker sitting in his desk, occasionally glancing upwards to check on him.

When Mr. Walker looked back down, Dean pulled out the diary, opening it greedily. He opened the front cover, searching for the part he had left off on, however it was nowhere to be found.

_What the- where did it go?_

He skipped to the back, where the latest update was.

 

**Oh, god. Why, why, why.**

 

_What happened to this guy?_

 

**He found it. He found the notebook. He probably read it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hope he didn't read that part about...well...you know.**

_No, I don’t know! What was it?_

 

**I ripped it out right after. He can’t know about it. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t!**

 

_Jesus, calm down Cas, it’s not like I have anyone I need to tell._

 

**I just wish I could talk about him in here again. He’s so cute and I found a better way to describe his hair. Its called ashy blonde. Basically its blonde with flecks of brown and its so hot. God, I’m clueless.**

_I guess he is a writer. Who the fuck says ‘ashy blonde’ anyway?_

 

**I talked to him again. He looked at me directly in the eyes, jesus christ. His eyes. They’re like a fanfiction green. All deep and sparkly and so full of happiness. I’d do anything to call him mine.**

_Again with the fucking green eyes. Fanfiction green? I have to look that up later._

 

**I hate my eyes compared to his. They’re stupid and blue and not sparkly in the least bit. They’re all dull and boring. Ugh.**

 

_What the hell are you talking about? Your eyes are a fucking treasure._

 

**I just wish I could tell him. But how do I do that? , I love you.**

The name was highlighted black to cover the pen.

**I forgot, I can’t take any chances. I should start writing in pencil.**

 

_Are you fucking kidding me? Its official, the universe hates me._

 

**And talked to me. He talked to me. To me. And I almost fainted on the spot, goddamnit.**

 

_Damn, this guy is like a chick, all sappy and stuff, not that I judge or whatever._

 

**God, okay, I’m fucking switching to pencil. If I fuck up one more time, I swear to God.**

 

_What’s so wrong with pen, you can always just scratch whatever like you did before. Ugh, alright, I am so bored. I wonder what his old ‘entries’ are like._

Dean flipped through a couple pages, starting a page with ‘September 12, 2013’.

 

**So it’s the first day of sophomore year. It’s been exactly a year since I got this journal. I know I’m lame, I’m just surprised that there are still pages in here. I haven’t really written everyday for the summer so I guess there’s that.**

_So what, you don’t write shit for a while? Who gives a crap…_

 

**A lot of terrible things happened. Starting off on a lower note, Gabriel hasn't really been talking to me. That might be because he met that girl, Kali, her name, I think. But come on, he could at least make an effort to realize I’m here.**

 

_Okay, so your older brother met a hot babe, what’s so bad about that?_

 

**Also, I heard from Lucifer again.**

 

_Wait, Lucifer, Lucifer…_

 

Dean leafed back to the front, searching for the name.

 

_Oh yeah, he was the older brother that ran away. I wonder why he came back._

 

**Apparently he runs an office now. Not sure how he afforded it though, whatever, I doubt that I want to know anyway.**

 

_An office, what is it, Hell Industries?_

 

**He called it...uh, fuck, it was...Hell Industries?**

 

_You’re shitting me right now._

 

**No, I’m kidding, it’s actually something business-y but I don’t really care. Don’t really know him anymore anyway.**

 

_None of this is interesting me anymore. I just want to fucking know who the guy he was talking about was, dammit._

 

Dean leafed through the rest of the notebook trying to find anything even hinting to ‘Mr. Green Eyes’. He found one unlabeled excerpt. There was no date, no title, just words splayed on a paper. He didn’t read it all, most of it was smudged ink, but he read all the darker pen, darker means more important, right?

 

**………………………………………..doubt he cares……….wonder if he………...wonder when he……………….wonder why he………..would he ever…...maybe he does……...**

**…..why do I care…….should I care?......................................no...no...no...no...no...no**

**...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no…no...no...no...no...no**

 

_What is this page even about? I don’t even get it. Everything else was too blurred to understand. What was his problem…_

 

Dean hunched over his desk, his eyebrows scrunched together, and scrunching his eyes trying to read whatever else he could. He shook his head, eventually giving up. What else could he do? He can’t tell Castiel ‘Oh yeah, by the way, I read your diary even though it’s super important that no one reads it and I found this one part that kinda worried me so I wanted to know what you were going through.’

He quickly closed the journal, being careful not to bend any of the pages in the notebook. He couldn't leave any evidence that he opened it. He quickly shoved the journal away, directly into his backpack, just as Mr. Walker looked up.

Dean’s lip slightly curled up on one side, “Yes, Mr. Walker?” He asked, smugly.

Mr. Walker scowled before muttering to himself, “One hour. Just one more hour.”

One hour. Just one more hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I keep getting distracted while writing this. Heeeellpppp...


	4. Step 4: Words Can Go a Long Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally gets to keep the notebook to himself for the whole day, all to himself. The only problem is how is he going to give the notebook back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be super real here. I originally said that I was going to make this chapter super painful but I decided that since I hadn't updated in so long, that this one would just be long and I'll squish that in next chapter. Cool? Cool.

Mr. Walker glanced up to the clock, sighing in relief, “Winchester, your time is up. Gather your things and get out.”

Dean looked up to the clock next, before checking to make sure the notebook was back in his bag and walking out. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Dean walked slowly to his bike.

_I probably should tell Sam where I am. Dad would be pissed if Sam did something stupid._

Dean pulled out his phone from his jean’s pocket, finding Sam’s name in his contacts, and quickly tapping the name. He chuckled slightly at the contact picture, a picture Sam’s face squished enough to make it unrecognizable and Jessica in the background laughing.

It took a couple rings to connect but Sam eventually picked up.

/Dean! Where the hell are you?/

“Shut up, Sammy. Got detention again, It think I have a new streak.” Dean said, smiling.

/What did you do this time?/ Sam asked, expectantly.

“Went back to Charlie’s room again. Actually got caught.” Dean said, deciding not to tell Sam about Castiel.

/The art teacher?/ Sam was silent for a second. /Guess you’re gonna have to sharpen up your breaking and entering strategy./

“Guess I do. Look, are you okay? I have to make sure for Dad.” Dean said, exiting the school building.

/I’m fine, Dean. Kevin came over today so it’s not like I’m alone./ Sam said. /He says hello by the way./

“I’ll be home in like 10 minutes so don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.” Dean said, sliding onto his bike.

/Aw man, I guess we have to get the fire extinguisher./ Sam said, sarcastically before quickly hanging up.

“Sammy, don’t you fucking dare, I swear to god if anything is- hello? Hello?! Goddamnit.” Dean turned off his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. He rode his bike into the street making his way up to his house. Passing by multiple other houses and students from his school, he decided to go the other way around, keeping him away from most people, just trees and small cracks of sunlight. Dean thought it was much more peaceful.

He pulled up behind his house, unlocking the back door, parking his bike and grabbing his bag. He walked in to see Sam and Kevin sitting together, working together on some sort of project.

“Hey Sammy. Kevin.” Dean said, tipping down an imaginary hat.

“Hello Dean.” Kevin replied, politely.

“Hey.” Sam said, his voice muffled and his eyes still glued to the poster before him.

“How is it that your friend who I barely know, no offense, has more respect for me?” Dean asked before throwing down his bag.

“I happen to have gotten to know you.” Sam said, with a shrug.

Dean lazily stuck out his tongue, walking over to the two boys, “What are you guys working on?”

“History project. You have to take a small book that’s like a children’s book and use a historical figure and, like, make it so that the book is about them. Does that make sense?” Sam said, looking up.

“I mean, I guess? Whatever, how far are you two?” Dean asked, peeking over Sam’s shoulder.

“Pretty far, we should be done with it tomorrow.” Kevin interjected, putting a pen down and looking up at Dean.

“Great, glad school’s treating you well.” Dean said, smiling.

Dean’s phone started to ring, and he quickly picked it up. “Hello?”

/Dean? Is that you?/ A man’s voice was loud on the other end.

“Dad? Hello?” Dean asked, incredulously, surprised by the call.

/Dean! Good thing I grabbed you on the phone. I’ll be home soon, this trip is gonna bring money to the family, no doubt!/ John said, his voice sounding crinkled through the phone line.

Dean described his father as the power/money-hungry businessman with the secret alcoholism problem. Not exactly the best role model.

“That’s great Dad, when’ll you be back?” Dean asked, lazily.

/In a couple days, I promise. How’s Sam doing?/

“He’s good, don’t worry. Doubt he wants to talk to you after what happened right before you left.” Dean said, glancing down to Sam, making sure to be quiet enough so Sam couldn’t hear.

/It’s good to know he’s okay. If anything happens to him, it’s your fault, you hear me?/ John’s voice grew louder.

“I know Dad, I know. He’s probably not going to respond to you. Just...don’t flip out.” Dean said, dropping his words at the end.

/As if I would, I told you Dean. I’m getting better./

“Whatever you say, Dad. I’ll see you later.” Dean said, hastily hanging up. “Hey, Sammy. Dad’s back this week, says we’ve hit the big-time.”

“He always says that.” Sam refused to let his eyes wander off the poster before him.

Dean nodded slightly before grabbing his bag and strolling into his room. In other people’s eyes, his room was small and confining but to Dean, it was his own. A small place that no one else could be in. Sam had learned not to walk in after a while, and John was rarely home long enough to care.

He threw the backpack onto the floor beside his bed and fell onto his bed, his hands underneath his head. Staring up at the ceiling, Dean thought. He thought a lot recently. About everything. About school, about Sam, and newly about that damn notebook. Dean felt like he needed to know everything about Castiel and he didn’t even know why.

He rolled over on his side, staring at the painted walls. They used to be a plain white but that bored Dean. Who wants to fall asleep in a plain white room, how boring could that be? So he painted them. He painted them in every shade of paint he could find. But he drew objects. Things that were important to him. He drew the necklace that Sam had given him when he was 8. He never took it off. It was more important to him than most things. There were also portraits. Sam had a space, Mary, Dean’s mother, had a spot dedicated to her, and of course Charlie got her own wall. Dean was proud of his work but he felt like it needed...something. Just something. It could be an object, a portrait, even a fucking quote, Dean had no idea.

Dragging his bag closer to him, Dean unzipped it and grabbed the notebook once more. The small picture on the front was dog-eared and slightly scratched but still looked perfect. Dean smiled a bit at the front before opening it again.

_Is there anything else like that page I found? I wonder…_

Dean opened the book about halfway and started reading the first words on the page.

**Last day of school today. July 24, 2013.**

_This was last year, he didn’t write again until ages later, the next page is the page I found. So that was during the summer. Huh._

 

**Great. Can’t wait. What, it’s obvious that I didn’t want school to end? Well then, shit. Guess I can’t hide. I don’t want to go back to spending all day with Gabriel.**

_Why do I feel like every page is the plot to a soap opera or something. None of this is real, right? The guy did say he was a writer, maybe this is a project._

__

**Gabriel said that I won’t mind being away from my friends for a while. Apparently, way back when he went to high school, Dad wouldn’t let anyone into the house that wasn’t a Novak. Whatever, it’s not like that makes me feel better.**

_His dad sounds worse than mine. How did he deal with that shit?_

__

**_And why would that matter? I was, like, four when that happened. I didn't care._ **

 

**Gabriel told me yesterday that Mom is alive. Her name is Eve. I don’t know her last name.**

_His brother talked to his mom? Maybe the next page is about his dad and how he fucked things up with Eve. Come on, I’m trying._

 

**She left as soon as I was born and no one deemed it necessary to tell me about her existence. I thought she was dead for fuck’s sake.**

_Here I am bitching about my problems while Cas is literally living in a Heaven-disguised hell-hole._

**It doesn't matter now though. Now’s she’s just some woman claiming to be my mother.**

_...What am I supposed to say about this? They’re is no point of saying that I’m sorry, this fact has no precedence in his life to warrant that. But I can’t just ignore the fact that his mom has literally become a stranger._

A loud knocking on the bedroom door shocked Dean out of his thoughts, “What’s up?” He called, looking up.

“Kevin and I are going to his house, we’re gonna bike there, okay?” Sam said, dropping his hand.

“Be careful, alright? Call me the minute something happens." Dean said, jumping up to open the door. He slid the notebook under his pillow hiding it from Sam’s sight. He opened the door to Sam and Kevin standing side by side.

“Of course we’re gonna be careful. He doesn't live too far anyway. I think he’s closer to our school than us.” Sam said, Kevin staying quiet.

“I’ll see you guys out. Also, call before you walk in. For your safety.” Dean said, winking at Sam.

“You’re so gross, Dean. We’ll see you later.” Sam said, as Kevin snickered at Dean’s comment.

The three walked to the garage of the house where three bikes were lined up and and empty space laid bare, just enough for the car. Sam and Kevin put on their helmets as Dean opened the garage door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kevin. Be safe.” Dean said, waving as the two rode away, laughing.

Dean closed the garage door before walking back inside.

_Now, where was I?_

 

 

 

Dean woke up the next morning to the sound of AC/DC and his brother’s voice outside his door, the journal still under his pillow. He rubbed his eyes, before sitting up and looking blankly forward.

“Dean! Wake up, You’re gonna be late! More importantly, I’m gonna be late!” Sam said, knocking against the door.

“I get it, I get it, give me 10 minutes, okay?” Dean said, running a hand through his hair and shaking his hand towards Sam’s direction.

“It better be ten minutes, Dean.” Sam said, with fake anger.

Dean pulled out the notebook and looked at the cover for a moment. He sighed before shoving it back into his backpack. Zipping up the thin bag, he stood up quickly to change into school clothing. After putting on a dark set of clothes, Dean swung the door open and slung his bag over his shoulder, “Sammy!” he called, shoving his shoes on.

“You should really start eating breakfast, Dean.” Sam said, walking out of their kitchen.

“Stop nagging me, you brat.” Dean said, ruffling his younger brother’s hair. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You know, I've been thinking of getting a motorcycle soon, you might not have to ride your bike home if you want your awesome older brother to pick you up.”

“I think I’ll pass. But you enjoy your new bike.” Sam said with a soft chuckle.

The two brothers rode their way to Sam’s junior high and then parted ways as Dean made his way to school. By the time that Dean had arrived, first period had just began. He ran his way through the hall, sitting in his first period English class barely late.

The teacher, Ms. Talbot pulled her glasses down to look down at Dean as he panted in his seat by the front of the class, “I think this is a new record, Dean. I doubt you've ever been on class this early before.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Dean slightly uncomfortable, “It’s rare, you should take a picture.”

Bela almost made a comment but deemed it too inappropriate to state in a public school setting. She began writing on the board, her back to the rest of the class.

Benny sat behind Dean in first period. He whispered, “Psst, hey Dean, where the hell were you yesterday?”

“I was busy, I was eating with someone else.” Dean said, attempting to keep Castiel’s identity a secret from Benny.

“Don’t tell me, Dean Winchester went on a date? Impossible. You better not tell Talbot.” Benny said, quietly snickering.

“What the hell are you talking about ‘date’? And Talbot, no way.” Dean said, swatting away Benny’s ideas.

“I’m not kidding, man. Everybody knows it. She’s totally into you. And she’s not bad either. ‘hint hint’” Benny winked, slightly nudging Dean’s arm.

“Shut up, she’s not my type. And do you know how old she is?” Dean said, turning to face Benny.

“I doubt that’ll even matter once you get talking. Or stop talking.” Benny laughed at his own wordplay.

“Shut up, man. Not Talbot, that’s just gross, and I hate when people objectify me.” Dean said, stopping Benny from going off a tangent.

“That does sound like you. Hey, did you know there is a rumor going around that you have a son?” Benny said, making sure he kept Dean’s attention.

Dean almost whipped around in shock, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s not that weird of an assumption. You do show up late all the time with basically an infinite lasting ‘free-to-go’ pass, you pretty much started showing up late after you and Lisa broke up, everyone thinks that it’s because you knocked her up and you have custody.” Benny whispered, making sure the teacher didn't turn around.

“That’s crazy, it's Sam I have to worry about, not some imaginary kid.” Dean said, in a harsh whisper.

“Don’t tell me, tell the rest of the school.” Benny said, an apologetic look on his face.

Dean sighed in disbelief, “Look, the next time someone says that to you, tell them about Sam, please?”

“I promise, don’t worry, I got you covered.” Benny said, patting Dean’s shoulder.

“Everyone, hush, hush. Turn to page 63 in the textbooks under your desk. Today we are going to learn about literary analysis!” As the class pulled the books out, Ms. Talbot walked to Dean’s desk and dropped a post-it note on his desk.

The text read out: ‘Meet me after class, will you? ~Bela’

Dean stared at the small slip of paper before shoving into his pocket and pulling out his textbook.

“Let me guess,” Benny whispered, “See me after class, Winchester, kissy-face kissy-face.” He mocked, pursing his lips, smiling.

“Shut up, Benny.” Dean said, quietly.

Benny snickered before sitting back in his seat, proud of himself.

“Alright, class. Reading Comprehension!” Ms. Talbot said, cheerily.

Dean lulled through class, unable to push the note out of his mind. He might be an eighteen year old guy, but he was not about to fuck his English teacher.

When the bell had rang for the end of first period, Benny punched Dean in the shoulder before shuffling out of the room. Dean stood up reluctantly, picking up his things just as the rest of the class was draining out. Neither him nor Bela said anything until the whole room was cleared, but just as the last student left, Bela walked straight towards Dean, leaving Dean to avoid her by leaning back against the desk, his hands supported him.

“Uh, Ms. Talbot? You asked for me?” Dean said, feeling his palms get sweaty.

“You've been late a lot recently, I was just thinking that there was some extra credit that could get you those class points back.” She said, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, you know, I’m okay with failing this class, I’ll be fine.” Dean said, glancing at the door, hoping to find a way to escape. And Ms. Talbot’s breath smelled like pumpkin spice and it wasn't even fucking October yet.

“Are you sure about that? Don’t you have someone who wants you to do well?” She asked, moving her hand up Dean’s chest, each finger crawling closer to his neck.

Dean swallowed, his hands slipping at the edge of the table. He glanced at the door once more, and at the moment he had looked, Castiel was about to walk by the door, “Castiel!” He called, hoping he caught the attention of the boy.

 _Hm?_ , Castiel thought, turning his head slightly, facing the English classroom. He scrunched his eyebrows together, confused on who had just said his name.

Dean’s eyes lit up and he yelled out again, “Cas!”

Bela had stepped backwards slightly, slowly removing her hand from Dean’s chest.

Castiel looked into the room. Only one person has ever called him Cas, “Dean?”

Bela looked from Castiel to Dean and then back again, “Dean, who’s this?” she asked, her voice sweet but deadly, annoyance dripping off her words.

“This is my new friend, Castiel. Sorry, but I really have to go. It was...great talking to you.” Dean said. He walked to Castiel, turned him around, and pushed his out with one hand on his back.

Castiel mumbled something in confusion looking up at Dean.

Bela sighed with discontent, watching Dean leave the room quickly, “The good ones always run away.” She mumbled, walking back to her desk.

Dean hurried away from the classroom, his hand remaining on Castiel’s back.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked, trying to keep up with Dean.

“Away from there, that’s where.” Dean said, quickly. Once they were no longer in the same building, Dean stopped to catch his breath.

“What the hell did I walk into there?” Castiel asked, panting.

“Seems like more than girls my age are into me.” Dean said, a hand at his side.

Castiel frowned slightly, “Does this happen often?”

“Well, to be honest, I rarely show up on time for her to make her creepy advances. I mean, she’s attractive, right? I mean, she should be, just...no.” Dean said. He paused for a second, “Did that make any sense?”

“I think I know what you’re trying to say.” Castiel said, smiling softly.

“At least someone does,” Dean said, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Dean, I think you should get to your next period.” Castiel said, loosening his shoulders.

“Nothing like a bit of sexual harassment before some Pre-Calculus.” Dean said, smiling slightly.

"Ah, yes. The glory that is math." Castiel said, sardonically, about to turn around.

“Wait, wait, hold on, text me, okay? You’re cool.” Dean pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket and tore a small piece out. Pulling a pen out, he scrawled on his phone number and shoved it into Castiel’s hands.

“Shit, that reminds me. Have you seen that notebook I always carry? The one you found the first day we met.” Castiel said, scratching his neck.

Shit, I forgot that, how could I forget about that?

“No, I haven’t seen it, but I’ll keep a look out for it.” Dean said, emotionless.

“Thanks, Dean. I’ll see you later?” Castiel asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Dean put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “I'll see you later, Cas.” Dean pulled the bag higher on his shoulder, waving his hand in a salute and walking away, “I would hurry up if I were you.” He called behind him.

Castiel’s eyes widened, “Shit, no one’s even in the hallways anymore. Fuck.”

Dean snickered as Castiel ran back into the doors. The bell ran a minute later and Dean decided to take a stroll before walking into his second period, taking his sweet time. About ten minutes later, Dean finally walked through the familiar doorway, interrupting what seemed to be a lesson.

Mr. Devereaux stopped speaking as Dean walked in, “You know the drill, Winchester.”

“Of course, you don’t need to worry about me.” Dean said, lazily. He walked to his reserved spot in the back of the classroom, and put his feet on the chair in front of him as he sat down. Pre-Calculus was not the most interesting class in the world. But Dean was used to the routine of falling asleep in class while the kid in front of him complained about Dean constantly kicking his chair. The teacher kept going with the rest of the lesson, pausing a few times to let the class complete a question. As the bell rang, he called attention to the class, and Dean, being awakened by the bell, decided to listen in.

“This weekend you’ll be receiving your 10 week grades.” The class collectively groaned, “Most of you have achieved passing grades, others, not so much.” he said the last part while maintaining eye contact with Dean, who had no care for what he was saying, “You’re dismissed, and remember there is a quiz tomorrow!” He called as he walked to the back of his room where his desk sat, cluttered with papers. Dean sat up, and slung his backpack over his shoulder again, the bag basically empty except for Castiel’s notebook, a sketching pad, and some charcoal pencils and erasers. Nothing really pertaining to the classes he took. Dean walked out of the classroom patting a beat against his sides. Dean used the time between 2nd and 3rd period to walk around the school, meet up with Benny, or step in during a football game. He began walking towards the field when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket; it was a message from Castiel.

**Hello, is this Dean? It’s Castiel.**

Dean replied to Castiel’s text, stopping to lean against a tree as he typed.

_Yeah, hey, you don’t need to be so serious, we’re cool, remember? BTW I found your notebook if you want it back._

He unzipped his bag and reached for Castiel’s notebook, careful not to rip anything.

**Goddamn, I really need to stop leaving that in random places. You didn't...read anything in it, right?**

_As if I would, I happen to respect whatever privacy you can get from a composition book._

_If you want it back, I’m by the tree in front of the vending machines._

**I’m nearby, I’ll be there in a second.**

Dean looked around, trying to find Castiel only to notice the boy’s bright blue eyes as he ran closer. The top few buttons of Castiel’s button up were undone and his hair was a mess, more than it was usually.

“Where have you been, you’re a mess.” Dean said, laughing slightly.

“I just got out of PE, they kicked me out because I was taking too long getting dressed,” Castiel shrugged, attempting to quickly button up his shirt, and running a hand through his hair, “Doesn't really matter, it’s not like that grade matters that much.”

Dean nodded as Castiel talked before hanging Castiel’s notebook in front of the other boy’s face, “You have a terrible track of your things. Get it together, man.”

Castiel snatched back his notebook, scowling at Dean, no real meaning behind the look, “Whatever, I might not be the most organized but at least I try to do well in my classes.”

“Hey, shut up about that, it’s not important, none of this matters, I can make money off of my art, I don’t need Pre-Calc in life.” Dean said, zipping his bag closed.

“Which brings me to my next question, how did you even get to Pre-Calculus if you've never done the actual work in your classes?” Castiel asked, placing his bag down and opening it so he could shove his notebook away.

“My brother, Sam, sometimes we cram before super important tests so that I can at least pass the class.” Dean said, “It’s proven pretty effective.”

“You have it too easy, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, laughing and shaking his head.

“If that’s what you want to think.” Dean said, a faint grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive response so far! It's what actually motivates me to keep writing so keep up with the comments, I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Step 5: A Hit And a...Not So Much of a Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't get Castiel out of his mind and it's...distracting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN SO LONG  
> I'm am legitimately sorry for not updating in forever. But this was kind of hard to write only because I couldn't find the words to do the idea justice. And I know it's a little short but it conveys what I've been trying to write for a weeks. Kinda.

After picking up his bag, Castiel looked into Dean’s green eyes, his own eyes almost glazed over. After shaking his head, Castiel looked back at Dean, “Thank you again for getting my notebook.”

Dean shrugged, “Not a big deal.” He pulled the strap on his backpack up a bit. Looking down at Castiel. He had never thought of it before but Castiel was kind of attractive. Especially now, with his dark, black hair swept aside, perfectly framing his pale face, a perfect comparison with his bright blue eyes. He spaced out looking into Castiel’s eyes, not realizing he was staring.

Castiel smiled, nervously, “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean widened his eyes before shaking his head in realization, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine, don’t worry.” Dean swallowed, dryly, “I-uh, gotta go, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Castiel laughed a bit, “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean nodded his head awkwardly before shuffling away. He grimaced to himself as he briskly walked through a crowd.

You stared at him. You fucking stared at him. Great job, Dean.

 

Dean squandered the rest of his day by dwelling on his own embarrassment. He pulled out his sketchbook by 5th period, World History, pulling out a single charcoal pencil and began sketching away. Dean usually drew anything he could. He would draw landscapes and self-portraits but his favorite thing to draw were other people. It gave him a chance to actually observe a person, and capture a moment in time that he could make himself. His notebook was packed with drawings of his friends, strangers he caught a glimpse of on the street, and sadly enough, multiple drawings of Ms. Bradbury. It wasn’t much of an attraction thing, Dean knew that she favored women over men, but she was one of the closest things he had to a mother. Everyday, Dean would ignore whatever classwork he had to deal with for the day and sit himself down in the front of his art elective, with Charlie smiling down at the rest of the class. Charlie and Dean had almost everything in common, they enjoyed the same movies, read the same comics, and watched the same tv shows. Everything that Dean drew or painted in that class were basically cherished by Charlie, maybe because she realized that Dean needed some sort of positive energy in his life, but Dean didn’t care what it was. He just needed that sense of satisfaction that he could grasp from a simple ‘good job, Dean’ or ‘it’s amazing’.

And then within a fraction of a second, it was all gone. It was over, she wasn’t there anymore. The crash that ended not only Charlie’s life but what felt like Dean’s. His world crashed down around him in one night of bad decisions and a bastard who decided to get behind the wheel after a long night at the bar.

After about an hour of mindless drawing, the bell rang for Dean to make his way to sixth period. Dean sighed with discontent as he smudged a bit of his drawing, adding a bit of shade to the portrait. He didn’t realize before, but after taking a moment to look at his drawing, he recognized the traits. The dark hair, sharp jawline, and deep eyes belonged to no one other than Castiel. Dean immediately felt his face burn just looking at the drawing.

What the fuck? Was I really…

Dean snapped his journal closed, shoving it back into his open backpack. He received a strange look for Jo Harvelle, a blonde girl who sat near Dean in most of his classes. He, along with the rest of the seniors, knew that she had a strange fascination with Dean, one that Dean couldn’t possibly fathom. He cracked an awkward smile before quickly walking out of the room. Dean felt like he was driving down an infinite road of embarrassment that just had no end. Shuffling through the hallway it hit Dean that he had completely blown off Castiel for lunch. An image of Castiel standing alone by the locked door flashed into Dean’s mind for a second before he flicked the idea away. He pulled out his phone, planning on shooting a quick text to Castiel, apologizing for leaving the boy in the dark, but quickly decided against the idea, avoiding any sort of confrontation where Dean would have to counter his own embarrassment. He scowled at himself as he walked through the hallway, quickly making his way to his sixth period and waiting for the day to end.

 

Dean left school at the end of the day with a sort of regret.

_You should have apologized, you fucking idiot. Why are so embarrassed, you just spaced out, not a big deal!_

_Fuck, I messed up, I messed up, I just made this weird for myself. Goddamnit. AND I TOTALLY RUINED MY CHANCES OF GETTING THE NOTEBOOK BACK._

Dean stopped in place for a moment as he was walking his parked bike. He slapped his forehead as if shocking him back into reality.

_Shut up, Dean, just shut up._

He walked around the school to pull his bike out of the small parking garage it was tied in. As he hopped onto the bike, he took a sharp turn out of the garage, pulling onto the bike lane. His eyes were focused on the road but his mind wouldn’t leave the idea of Castiel alone. He could see everything in his way, he stopped wherever he had to, but his mind was too busy thinking of Castiel’s definable features to devote his full attention to the street ahead of him. By now, most of the street was cleared, leading Dean to let his guard down and put away the thought that he really should be paying more attention. He took a turn to the right, when Castiel’s smile flashed into his mind, his bright blue eyes gleaming with laughter, and his pale skin slightly pink.

That was when it happened. Dean didn’t remember much.

A scream.

A screech.

He remembered falling.

And then light. He definitely remembered light.

A bright light, it was white. A blinding white.

But his eyes were closed.

He remembered noise, but not anything he’d heard before. It was a clash of metal and there was cracking of...something.

And then there was…

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me


	6. Step 6: Is This Castiel Novak?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's hurt, pretty bad. Who did this? Is he okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like an asshole, whoops. Hey, remember me? No? I understand, don't worry. I've had so much work at school and I've been neglecting this piece so much. If you want to keep reading, please do! Also, to remind me to post here, find me on Instagram @dean.winchester! Thanks guys!

She panicked. She was driving home from a long day of work when she hit that poor boy. And it was most definitely all her fault and, oh, this was just horrible. She was crying and she didn't even realize it. She pulled out her phone and dialed 911, awaiting the answer anxiously. The boy was bleeding but he didn't seem to be awake. He couldn't be more than a high-schooler, he was way too young. When the call was picked up, her words were shaky, explaining the accident that just occurred. The man on the other end of the line explained that ambulances were on the way and that she just needed to stay calm. The woman agreed and hung up slowly, catching her breath.

The boy was limp on the floor and she noticed something by his stomach. His phone! It must of fallen out of his pocket or something. She fell next to the boy on the floor and picked up the phone, thankful that it was untouched by blood, her stomach turning at the thought. As she turned it on, it was almost sheer luck that the boy didn't keep a password on his phone, letting his unlock it immediately. She opened the contacts and noticed the email contact in the notifications. “dean.winchester@gmail.com’. That must be this kid’s name. Her fingers shook with what seemed like an incoming panic attack and found the name Sammy Winchester under the phone contact list. She tapped the name and called the number, keeping her eyes fixed on Dean in front of her, as if expecting him to wake up. She tapped her knee absentmindedly as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And then ‘Hi, you've reached Sam Winchester. You know what to do.”

The woman cursed under her breath before saying, “Sam Winchester." she repeated, "Dean Winchester, he, he’s not okay right now. He’s going to be at the hospital. At the nearest one. I-I don’t know what it’s called but its the closest.” The line went dead. She cursed again before opening the phone’s contacts again. This time she looked at the most recent list. Maybe if she found someone that he talked to earlier, they would pick up. The name at the top of the list was ‘Castiel Novak’ and she nervously tapped the number. The phone was silent before finally ringing, once, twice and then a deep voice was at the end of the line.

/Dean? What’s up?/

The boy’s voice was slightly tense as if he was holding something back.

“Is this Castiel Novak?” she asked, choking back tears.

/Yes, who is this? Where’s Dean?/ he asked, obviously worried,

“My name is Hannah Milton. Dean’s not okay. He was on his bike when I, oh god, when I hit him.” she said, her voice cracking.

/Is he... alive?/ Castiel’s voice became softer.

Hannah hadn't checked for a pulse and panic began to build again. She put two fingers against Dean’s neck, searching for a pulse. Come on, one beat, just one beat, Hannah sighed with relief when she felt the beat underneath Dean’s chin, “Ye-yes, he’s alive, he’s alive.” She continued whispering the phrase under her breath only to herself, keeping herself calm.

/Is he bleeding?/ Castiel asked, sounding slightly more professional.

“Yes, he’s bleeding, he’s bleeding a lot. Oh god, that’s a lot of blood.” Hannah said, tears welling up again. She began to hear the sirens in the distance as ambulances neared the scene and stood up again, looking down at Dean, “I’m so sorry, I’m so...fuck, I’m so sorry.”

/Calm down, panicking won’t solve your situation./ Castiel noticed the sirens as well. /See, he’ll be fine soon, Don’t panic. Are you hurt anywhere?/

Hannah hurriedly scanned her own body and noticed a thin cut on her arm, nothing major, just a scratch, “No, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

/Dean’s going to be fine, he’s going to make it through this./ Castiel may have said this more to himself than to Hannah but he needed it right now, goddamnit.

The ambulance finally pulled up after what felt like forever, and Hannah felt a bit of weight lift off her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath as she straightened out her pantsuit in an attempt to look stable. However, her smeared makeup didn't allude much away from her current state.

Hannah brought the phone back up to her ear, “I will call you back later when they begin accepting people into the hospital.” She kept her voice from wavering, purposely sounding more professional. She hung up the phone call after hearing a small affirmative sound from the other end.

A large man followed by a group of men and women piled out of the vehicle, a gurney and IV lamp being dragged behind.

The man signaled for Hannah to step away from Dean, nodding to assure her that she was going to be okay. She trembled slightly at the gesture but moved willingly. A woman carrying a blanket walked towards Hannah slowly, waiting for Hannah to give some sign of approval that she could move closer, warranting a nod from Hannah herself. The woman smiled in acknowledgement and shuffled quickly to Hannah, wrapping her in a pale yellow blanket. Hannah couldn’t explain it but a simple blanket actually made her feel better, let her sink away from the situation. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath in, unable to take in a full breath, as if she had just been forced to run a mile and was trying to catch whatever breath she had left.

The woman threw one arm around Hannah’s shoulder, attempting to calm down Hannah, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re okay, how are you feeling? Are you hurting anywhere?”

Hannah opened her own eyes and peered into the slightly shorter woman’s, “No, I’m alright. I have a small cut on my arm but it doesn’t hurt at all.”

The woman nodded softly, “My name is Pamela Barnes, yours?”

“Hannah.” She said, “Milton, Hannah Milton.” She slew the last two words together as if to finalize the statement.

“Well, Hannah, we’re just going to put you in the ambulance and take you to the hospital, alright? I promise we’ll do anything we can for that boy over there and you can talk to him after any procedures we decide to carry out.” Pamela began leading Hannah towards the open ambulance, placing her in the one opposite to the one that Dean was being pulled into. She watched the gurney get pushed up the ramp and disappear into the white ambulance. Pamela sat Hannah down on the seat that lined the thin walls. She closed the doors behind her and sat next to Hannah, holding a hand against the shock blanket on Hannah’s shoulder.

“Everything’s fine. You’re fine.” Pamela whispered, sirens starting in the background signifying the departure of the adjacent ambulance.

“Oh, shit, I have his phone, the boy, I have his phone.” Hannah stuttered pulled the smartphone out of her pocket and held it in one hand, staring at it.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. Did you call anyone?” Pamela asked, keeping her tone sweet.

“Two people, one is Sam Winchester, I think that’s his brother or something, and Castiel Novak. He is most likely on his way to the hospital right now.” Hannah said, tapping the phone with her thumb erratically.

Pamela took her hand and covered Hannah’s, shushing her slightly and squeezing her shoulder a bit tighter, “It’s alright, it’s all going to be alright.”


	7. Step 7: Nice to Meet You, I'm Dr. Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's in the hospital. He's alive, but something isn't quite right. It never is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE!!11!!!!!!11  
> okay you should award me  
> this was hard to write  
> also  
> i'm so sorry  
> but i'm also not

Sirens.

Flashing lights.

Loud, indistinct voices.

One was low, one was high, one was almost silent but definitely there, as if lingering in the background, only a trace of sound audible over any sort of background noise.

Dean’s head felt heavy, almost strapped down, and his body was...stuck. After thinking about it, he couldn’t truly feel anything. He felt empty, sure, but not exactly numb. Just nothing.

He struggled to open his eyes, to no avail. He coughed but his throat produced no sound. He shook his head but his neck remained in place.

One of the voices got louder, or..no, that’s not louder. It became more clear, it was the voice of a man and he was definitely yelling about something. Dean couldn’t understand half of the words that flew out of the man’s mouth but he understood a few. Critical. Hurry. Losing.

Then he blacked out again.

 

Dean woke up after what seemed like days in a white hospital bed. In fact, white seemed to be a key component in the rooms design, from the white tile that covered the ground to the painted white walls. Dean shifted his arms and noticed the IV that was connected to his bicep. In fact, just moving a little hurt, as if Dean was sore all over. But wait. Shit. He could feel his head, his arms, his torso but then he couldn’t feel anything, as if he were cut off from his second half. Dean’s breath caught as a single tear started to form in his eyes. Just then a nurse walked inside the room, a sad smile on her face.

“Dean. You’re awake. That’s good to see.” Her voice was smooth and silky as fell like ribbons on Dean’s skin.

“My legs.” Dean rasped, before starting a coughing fit. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn't say anything.

The nurse sighed, “I’m sorry, Dean. I’ll call in the doctor.” She dialed a number on what looked like a watch but much larger, “Dr. Dempsey. Dean’s awake.”

The doctor walked in holding a clipboard, as all doctors seemed to do. He nodded at Dean, “How’re you feeling, son?”

Dean looked up at the nurse, attempting to avoid speaking again, hoping she would explain.

The nurse gave Dean a soft nod before saying to the doctor softly, “I believe he cannot access his legs.” Dean nodded in an attempt to confirm the nurse.

The doctor nodded, “I had assumed something like would happen. Dean, it’s not abnormal, I can promise you that. A bone in your lower spine was shattered in the accident. The paralysis was bound to occur. I’m very sorry.”

Dean was numb to every word in Dr. Dempsey’s speech. He could hear fine, thank god, but he didn’t really know if he wanted to at this point. His legs didn’t fucking work. They wouldn’t be able to work ever again. He would be stuck in a goddamn wheelchair for the rest of his life. There was no way he could walk or move on his own again. He was going to fucking kill whoever put him there. He coughed again before the nurse handed him a glass of water. She helped Dean sit up went to the point where she was practically feeding him. When Dean was done, he simply shrugged the woman away. He looked up at the doctor, hoping for some other kind of guidance, something to lead the way.

Dr. Dempsey cleared his throat, “Dean, you seem to have a couple visitors here. They’ve stayed for a couple hours, ever since you were brought here. Would you like to see them?”

Dean paused for a moment. Who’s here for me? I mean, Sam makes sense but who else?

He nodded softly as his neck was still extremely sore.

The doctor gave a quick nod to the nurse before leaving the room.

There was a lot of ‘nodding’ happening,

The nurse played with some of the metal instruments that surrounded Dean. They were all extremely intimidating considering they were all cleaned meticulously and sharp enough to easily slice through bone. At least, it looked like that.

Time seemed to jump a couple minutes in time and suddenly Dr. Dempsey was back in the room, with a woman behind him. She was in hysterics, tears dripping down her cheeks. She mumbled something to the doctor before receiving a nod from him and walking forward, smiling softly at Dean.

“Hello there.” She whispered, sniffling, “My name is Hannah.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Hi?” _Cough._

“I’m- I’m the one who- who-” Hannah choked.

 _Cough._ “Hit me.” Dean answered for her. Cough.

“I called your brother earlier, Sam, right?” Dean nodded in response, “He didn’t answer so I left a message and called you other friend, Castiel Novak.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he looked closer at Hannah. She resembled Castiel  slightly with her dark hair and bright eyes. Fuck, I’m literally crippled and I’m still focused on that dumbass.

“What did you call him for?” Dean said defensively. _Cough._

“I guess I panicked and he was your most recent conversation. So I figured at least he would answer. And he did. I believe he’s here right now.” Hannah said, quickly wiping away a tear.

Dean swallowed, “Yeah, I guess I could see him.” Real smooth, Dean.

Hannah forced a laugh, “He should be outside.” She let out short breath before going to talk to the doctor again. _Cough._ She shrugged at some question of his but Dean was much too out of it to think straight. His mind swam with blue eyes and pale skin and dark hair and… Cas. Fuck.

Dr. Dempsey excused the woman, who gave a quick glance to Dean before leaving the room, and spoke to Dean once more, “Your brother, Sam, seems to be on his way to this hospital. Please do not be too alarmed.” _Cough._

“Easier said than done.” Dean mumbled, groaning at the ache of pain that suddenly shot through his arm. _Cough._

There was a soft knock at the door to the hospital room and peek of a head. The boy at the door looked up at the doctor unsure of whether he was allowed to enter. He walked in slowly, his hands behind his back.

“Hello, Dean.” He smiled, reaching one hand out to rest on the bed.

“Cas-” _Cough._ “What are you doing here?” Dean pushed his torso up to look closer at Castiel. His hair was swept up messily and his shirt was wrinkled but it still fit him.

“Well, I was just sitting by my lonesome when suddenly I get this frantic call from some random woman. My first thought was that you were kidnapped.” Dean chuckled, “Then I learn that you’re in the hospital. Which, honestly is not what i expected at all. So here I am. Worried about my friend.”

Dean paused before saying, “Well, you’re in the right mind to be so.”

Dr. Dempsey cleared his throat, “We will leave you two alone. Please, just buzz for assistance.” He jerked his head towards the door, directing the nurse that way. The nurse caught the hint and quickly scurried out of the room, the doctor closely following her.

Castiel blushed slightly as the two left the room. He turned down to Dean, “As long as you’re alive it’s okay.”

“You would think, wouldn’t you?” Dean mumbled.  _Cough._

Castiel laughed awkwardly, “What do you mean?”

“Cas,” Dean took in a deep breath, “I can’t feel my legs.”


	8. Step 8: A Lull In the Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i view this fanfiction as one of the cringiest things ive ever made  
> but i also have severe writers block so i fucking wrote more  
> so yeah its all trash and i hate myself sorry i left it at sucha a weird spot

Cas let out a breath of nervous laughter, “You, ha, you what?”

Dean smiled as small beads of tears formed at his eyes, “I can’t feel them. They don’t work. The might never work. I’m going to be living the rest of my life without two legs to use.”

Cas stuttered, “Dean… I’m so-”

“Yeah, you’re sorry, I get it.” Dean interrupted, “Thanks for the sentiment but that’s not really that helpful.” He paused for a second, taking in a pained breath, “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“Uh, it’s okay, you’re under a lot of stress right now. You know, you’re allowed to cry.” Castiel said, hesitating.

“Thank you.” Dean said, sarcastically.

“Well, did the doctors say anything about it?” Castiel asked, refusing to let Dean go silent.

Dean sighed, “He said that, uh, I broke a bone on my spine and now my legs are just paralyzed.” The impact of the situation hadn’t hit Dean yet. He felt like he was floating through space. Like he was dreaming and he was perfectly fine. But the fact of the matter was that Dean was seriously injured but was so stuck in denial that he didn’t let the truth of it hit him.

“So, your legs are just gone now?” Castiel asked in a panic, “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I meant to say, uh…”

“Cas, it's okay. You’re under a lot of stress right now. You’re allowed to cry.” Dean said, mocking Castiel. He chuckled for a second before starting another coughing fit.

“So, you’re hooked up to these morphine IV things, I guess.” Castiel said, trying to draw out the conversation, “I guess you’re pretty high right now.”

“Come on, man.” Dean said, smiling, “I’m an artist, this isn’t a new experience.”

Castiel chuckled at that, looking down at Dean, “So you’re a stoner too?”

Dean smirked, “Sure, let’s call it that.”

Castiel was glad that he had got Dean to talk more, “You know, I’ve never done any drugs before.”

Dean faked a look of surprise, “Really? Your church ridden ass has never smoked pot before? Who would have guessed?” He smiled back at Castiel with pride.

“Come on, I have a streak going. 17 years gone by with never touching a single joint.” Castiel said, proudly.

Dean laughed, “More like 17 years gone by with never having fun.”

Castiel smiled, “Then maybe you’ll have to show me how sometime.”

“I’ll buy some high quality shit just for you.” Dean said, lazily. He yawned before looking up at Castiel, “Oh yeah, I drew you.” It took a second for what he had just said to register in his mind, “I mean, not on purpose. I was just drawing and then it turned out to look like you.” Dean paused again, “Wait, no! That’s worse. That’s so much worse. Start over. I drew you intentionally. Not because I was just thinking about you while I was doodling.”  _ Nailed it. _

Castiel chuckled, “Where is it?”

“It’s in my bag, in my sketchbook. It’s good, I promise.” Dean said, closing his eyes.

Castiel looked around for Dean’s backpack and found it in the corner of the room, spots of it drenched in Dean’s blood. Castiel winced as he unzipped it, picturing the accident in his mind. He found the sketchbook which, much to Castiel’s surprise and joy, laid unscathed. He was about to turn around and ask Dean if this was the right one before looking at him and realizing that Dean had fallen asleep again.  
He opened the book to the first page that was filled with small doodles, covering the whole page. There were roses and sketches of faces, all slightly cartoon-like. It was apparent that a lot of time was spent from the shading and a select few were even colored. He recognized one of them as the from earlier. It was the woman that taught Dean in his art class years ago. Castiel took a moment to ponder on why she meant so much to Dean, to the point where she was so prevalent in his life. He turned the page again, opening to what seemed like a still from an animation. He turned a couple more pages, skipping a couple drawings that seemed like practicing drawing different body parts. He finally found the picture that Dean was talking about earlier. It was… incredible.

The artwork was astounding, it was almost overwhelming. It was like looking into a mirror; every feature was so precise and accurate. To think that it was created from memory of the few times that Dean and Castiel had actually talked face to face. A thin smile spread across Castiel’s face before he turned to Dean who was fast asleep.

Castiel heard a knock at the door before closing the sketchbook quickly and answering it.

“Is Dean asleep?” Dr. Dempsey asked as he walked into the room.

Castiel closed the door behind him, “Yeah, he fell asleep a couple minutes ago.” He paused, “Do you think that he’s gonna be okay?”

The doctor sighed, “He’s going to survive, that shouldn’t be a problem. But his life is going to be forever changed. As you know, he shattered his spine around his lower back, leaving him paraplegic. Everything in his life is going to be completely different now.”

Castiel looked over at Dean, “Do you know how he’s going to afford this visit?”

Dr. Dempsey nodded, “Ms. Milton has already said that she will pay for this visit and any of the future treatments that Dean may need. This accident seems to have shaken her up quite a bit.”

Castiel nodded in understanding before asking, shakily, “Do you think he could ever walk again?” He took a deep breath in before hurriedly saying, “Maybe that’s a dumb question; you probably get asked that all the time.”

The doctor sighed and placed an arm on Castiel’s shoulder, “It’s alright. You’re clearly experiencing a lot of emotions right now so don’t worry about what you say. I'm going to be candid with you. Patients with injuries of this severity don’t tend to get that magical happy ending we all wish for. I can’t say that he will walk again but I can’t say that he won’t. He needs help now more than ever. Whether you want to assume that responsibility or not is your choice.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he felt his breath get caught in his throat. He was about to speak up when a younger boy ran through the door. Dr. Dempsey turned to greet the new stranger.  
The boy had tears in his eyes and streaming down his face, “Is this Dean Winchester’s room?” His voice was merely a squeak, the fear apparent. 

Castiel nodded as the doctor said, “Yes, this is his room. Are you a relative?”

“His younger brother. I'm his younger brother. Sam. Can I see him?” He looked past the doctor and the stranger to the occupied hospital bed.

The two moved out of Sam’s way. Sam immediately ran over to the bed, dropping his backpack on the floor by his feet, “Dean? Dean!” He cried out, desperately trying to wake him. He looked towards the doctor, “Is he going to be ok? What happened to him?”

Dempsey sighed, “He’s suffered lower body paralysis. He won’t be able to walk. We can’t securely say how long he’ll be afflicted.”

Sam felt even more tears well up in his eyes, audible sobs escaping his lips.

Dean’s eyes opened slightly, adjusting to the light slowly. He felt the pain in his neck return but turned towards the figure hanging over him anyways, “Morning, Sammy.”


End file.
